


If Only

by things_that_matter



Series: If Only- An AU Series [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, First Love, Goodbyes, Intimacy, Love, M/M, Sad Elio Perlman, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:59:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/things_that_matter/pseuds/things_that_matter
Summary: If only they hadn’t parted ways that day at the train station.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Series: If Only- An AU Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198457
Comments: 44
Kudos: 57





	1. The Platform

**Author's Note:**

> This work is complete. Thank you for your support with all the kudos and comments. The encouragement means a lot!

Elio stood on the train platform with Oliver, feeling nothing. He had experienced a frenzy of emotions over the summer, building from curiosity, interest, lust, and then reaching a crescendo of desire, need, longing, intimacy. Perhaps even, though he dare not say or even think it, love. 

Strangely, he now felt numb, an artificial numbness, as one might experience after a trip to the dentist. There was no pain, but there was an acute awareness that pain would be along soon enough. He could not know how much pain and how long it would last. Elio gazed at Oliver, standing tall next to him, looking strong and confident as was his way, even though Elio now understood it was at least partially a false confidence. 

Elio felt a mild vibration beneath his feet before he saw the train. Before he even heard it. The vibration gradually grew stronger, gripping him. He felt as if it were constricting his very heart, as if to force to the surface all the emotions that he’d worked so hard to shove down to achieve this merciful numbness. 

When the vibration grew stronger, the other travelers and those, like himself, who would soon be left behind could sense it, too. They began folding their newspapers, discarding their paper cups of coffee long grown cold, then making their way to the edge of the platform. In the distance, the vibration was joined by a rumble, which grew louder and more organized, until it was eventually the chug, chug, chug that Elio couldn’t deny was the train. He refused to look, though. He would not look west. If he could not see the train, perhaps he could continue this beautiful dream he’d been living in these last few days. He felt an almost overwhelming regret, knowing these days could have been weeks, if only. 

If only he’d been braver. If only he’d been more confident. If only he’d been more willing to speak from his heart. If he’d been willing to expose himself, to lay himself vulnerable before another. He and Oliver could have spent weeks together, rather than days. He was such a fool. And though he refused to turn his head, eventually the train, a pale green blur, invaded his side vision. Though he refused to acknowledge it, the train grew larger, louder, more demanding until Elio’s entire existence was only metal, heat, and the smell of burning coal. 

Oliver did not speak to him. Nor did he speak to Oliver. They were in a dream, a soap bubble of a dream. Beautiful. Fragile. Doomed. Without deciding to, they both knew they would not speak. Not only because they didn’t know how to say goodbye, could not say goodbye, but also because they were afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid to even take a deep breath, hoping that by some miracle, the bubble they were living in might somehow remain intact. 

The other passengers were boarding the train, those left behind were waving, some smiling, some not. They knew they must separate. They nodded to one another, and their eyes said almost, _almost,_ everything they needed to say. _Thank you. I will remember you. I love you… I am you._

As Oliver turned to board the train, Elio felt the weight of everything he’d failed to do. Everything he’d failed to say. All the time he’d lost with Oliver. Suddenly he knew he could not make such a mistake again. He knew Oliver would not stay. He knew it would only hurt him more. He knew that the fragile bubble around him would burst, leaving him wet, sticky, cold. Yet he had to speak. He did not want to suffer, but if he must suffer, let it be because he spoke. Let it be because he tried. He thought, he hoped, he could live with that. But could he live with the pain of watching the train take Oliver away from him having said nothing? He didn’t think so. 

“Don’t go,” he whispered. 

Oliver stared at him with an unreadable expression. Elio thought for a moment he might be angry, or at least disappointed, because Elio had broken their silent vow not to speak. But Oliver only hugged him again, kissed the side of his face, and whispered, “I can’t stay.” 

“Then let me go with you,” Elio said. He held his breath then, bracing himself for Oliver’s next words, which he knew would be his last words: _You can’t._ Elio suddenly felt he’d made a mistake by speaking. He’d broken the spell, knowing that nothing productive could come from it. Why had he done it? 

As he stood, vision blurry with tears he refused to let fall, he heard Oliver’s voice in his ear, low and heavy. “Are you sure?” 

Elio pulled back then, sharply. He looked at Oliver, trying to read everything in his eyes that hadn’t been said. Everything they didn’t have time to say now. Elio knew there would be depths they hadn’t plumbed. Surprises he wasn’t prepared for. Perhaps even lies to be discovered. Still, he was certain.

“Yes,” he said. And so they boarded the train together, each with a head full of worries and a heart full of doubts. But each knowing that what they’d experienced was rare and special enough to deserve a fighting chance. 


	2. The Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no turning back now. Oliver wonders whether they will regret their impulsivity?

“My parents are going to come unglued,” he said. He looked out the window at the white, puffy clouds beneath them, felt the rumble of mild turbulence beneath his feet. “They are absolutely going to hit the ceiling.” It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It had seemed like the _only_ idea at the time. He pressed his fingers against his temples, rubbing small circles, but it did little to thwart the headache that was building behind his eyes. “They’re going to blow a gasket.” 

“ _Your_ parents are going to blow a gasket? _Your_ parents are going to be upset, huh?” Elio laughed. “I just hopped a train _and_ a plane for America.” 

Oliver increased the pressure to his temples and groaned. “Thanks for that, Elio. Thanks for making me feel both better and worse.” 

Elio shifted his weight in his seat so that his upper arm was touching Oliver’s. “It’s going to be fine.”

Oliver placed his arm on the armrest next to Elio’s, gently brushing the back of Elio’s hand with his index finger. He turned and smiled slightly, and Elio returned the smile with a bright one of his own. Oliver found it strange that such a simple thing as a smile could make everything feel more promising. But, Elio’s smile was like no other. There was an authenticity to it that made whoever was fortunate enough to see it smile as well. 

“It is going to be fine, Oliver. It really is,” Elio repeated. 

Oliver nodded. He glanced around, and seeing that no one was paying them the least bit of attention, he took Elio’s hand in his. “You’re right,” he said. 

Elio rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder. “We will be together, and that’s what matters in the end.” 

Oliver sighed. Elio was right, he knew. But there was so much that Elio was soon to learn. So much they hadn’t discussed. So much that he hadn’t known they needed to discuss. He did not regret letting Elio come with him. But he was worried about what loomed ahead, as much for Elio as for himself.

“I am afraid you will regret this,” he said, turning his head so that his lips were so close to Elio’s forehead that he could feel the warmth of his body. 

“I won’t,” Elio whispered, and Oliver heard the desire seeping into his voice. A desire that echoed his own at the moment. 

“You can’t know that. You can never know regret until after. That’s the very definition of the word,” Oliver said. 

Elio tilted his head almost imperceptibly, just enough so that Oliver’s lips brushed against him. “There won’t be an after.” 

“You believe so now…” Oliver began, but Elio interrupted him. 

“I _know_ it. I do,” Elio insisted.

Oliver gave the hand he was holding a slight squeeze, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind of everything except Elio. He could feel the warmth and weight of Elio’s body, could feel his hair brushing his own cheek. He breathed in the scent of shampoo and desire. He hadn’t known desire had a scent, but sitting here now, eyes closed, flying across the ocean in a metal capsule, he discovered it did.

“Elio, I need to tell you something.” 

“Whatever it is, it’s okay.” Elio had prepared himself. He knew that there would be surprises ahead. They’d thought they were having a summer romance. There would have been no reason for Oliver to reveal everything about himself, his life. As long as they were together, it would be okay. 

“It won’t be easy though,” Oliver said. 

“Then it won’t be. We can do difficult things.” At the time, Elio had genuinely believed it was true. 

  
  



	3. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver spend their first night together, each unsure of what tomorrow will bring.

As they walked out of the airport together, there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Each of them wondered if they’d made a mistake, each of them was more concerned whether the other shared their feelings. Oliver thought he should have all the answers, but he didn’t. He had no idea what to do, but he knew there were some things he could not do. He couldn’t take Elio to his apartment. The apartment he’d shared with his girlfriend on and off for three years. He definitely couldn’t take him to his parents’ home. Oliver didn’t like the alternative, but as soon as they got into the cab he said, “The Liberty Hotel, please.” At least it was one of the nicest hotels in Cambridge. He wondered what Elio would think. He’d been a guest at Elio’s home, and now he was taking Elio to a hotel? Guilt began to take shape, like a distant thunderstorm. 

Elio looked at him, eyes narrowed. Oliver could practically see the questions running through Elio’s mind, and he was torn then. Part of him wished Elio would ask his questions, so that it would at least be in the open to discuss. _We can deal with anything that we can discuss, so let’s discuss it_ , that side of him thought. The other side of him hoped Elio would remain silent so as not to harm their fragile bond. For indeed, what had felt in Italy to be a bond as strong as steel now felt as fragile as a single strand of silk. 

Oliver waited, but Elio did not ask why they were going to a hotel. Nor did he ask if Oliver would stay with him. He glanced over to see Elio gazing out the cab window. His face was as beautiful as ever, but he wore an unfamiliar expression that Oliver found unreadable. He wondered if Elio regretted coming. He must, Oliver thought. 

When they had checked into the hotel and made it to the room, Oliver was relieved. They were alone again, away from the threats of his daily life. He lay down on the bed, on top of the bedding. His eyes followed Elio, who was now standing in the window, looking down at the world, his expression still unclear. The way the light fell upon his features, highlighting and shading them like an artist’s brush, made Elio even more beautiful. More desirable, though Oliver would have thought it impossible. 

“Come lay with me,” Oliver said, patting the bed beside him. And Elio did. They lay together in awkward silence though, such a step back from the level of intimacy they had shared only a few short days ago. Oliver wondered if Italy had cast a spell on them, and if that spell was now broken. He wondered if Elio felt the same way. He rolled onto his side to face Elio, who was lying on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“What are you thinking about?” Oliver asked, and then held his breath, afraid of the answer. He could not take his eyes off Elio, laying as still as a statue, but lovelier than the most exquisite statue he’d ever seen. He placed the back of his hand gently on Elio’s forehead as if checking for a fever, as if Elio were a child or some other frail or wounded thing. His urge to protect Elio surprised him. Elio closed his eyes, and Oliver could see the pale bluish circles underneath them. Why hadn’t he noticed those before? “You look tired,” he said.

Elio smiled, a small, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I’m okay,” he said. Then, remembering Oliver’s first question, he added, “I don’t really know what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about everything, so many things at once, so quickly, that it feels as if I’m thinking about nothing at all.” 

Oliver nodded. He knew that feeling. An absence of thought brought on by a surplus of thought. 

“You need to call your parents,” he said. Elio already knew this, of course. 

“I know.” 

“Are you afraid to?”

Elio shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. He opened his eyes then, looked at Oliver and smiled widely. “Would you call them for me?” he asked playfully. 

“Yes,” Oliver replied immediately. He’d do anything for Elio. “If you want me to.” 

Elio’s playful smile changed then, to a smile of wonderment. How could there be someone willing to do such a thing for another? And how had he been lucky enough to find this person? He rolled onto his side without taking his eyes off of Oliver, as if he might be a hallucination, something too good to be true. Something that could vanish as quickly and easily as it had appeared if he dared to look away. He kissed Oliver’s neck, and Oliver touched his face, guided it toward his own, and kissed him softly on the lips. “One of us has to call them, Elio.” His voice was a whisper. 

Elio flopped onto his back again, sighing extravagantly. 

“Are you afraid?” Oliver asked again. “Do you want me to do do it?” 

Elio shook his head. “No, I’m not _afraid._ ” He wasn’t. His parents would be surprised, of course, but they would want him to be happy. He thought, though it had not been said, that his father understood the nature of his relationship with Oliver. He thought his father would be happy for him, knowing he was happy. His mother though… she might be hurt. He should have at least said goodbye. 

“What about you?” Elio finally asked. 

Oliver looked toward him, a questioning look on his face. “What do you mean? What _about_ me?” 

“Do you have someone you need to tell?” Elio asked. When Oliver didn’t answer, Elio grinned and waved an arm vaguely around the room, indicating the hotel. “I feel like there might be someone who will be surprised to meet me.” 

Oliver nodded. “There is.” Oliver looked crushed as he delivered this news, but Elio wasn’t surprised. He’d expected it. “I’m sorry. I should have told you,” Oliver whispered. 

Elio kissed him again. “Don’t be sorry. I knew.”

Oliver gave him a quizzical look. “You knew?” he asked, sounding skeptical. 

Elio shrugged casually. “I assumed so. He won’t try to kill me, will he?” 

Oliver groaned. “I don’t know. She might.”

Elio’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open. This was unexpected. “ _She_?” 

Oliver nodded, pulling Elio toward him and then wrapping his arms around him. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.” Elio thought there was a lot that Oliver didn’t know about himself, either, but he knew that time would reveal it.

“Well, if you want, you can call my parents, and I’ll call your girlfriend,” Elio offered. He was joking, but when he saw the anxious look on Oliver’s face, he regretted making a joke. 

In the end, they each called their own loved ones. Elio talked to his father, and it went as he thought it would. Elio had been planning to study in America anyway, so he’d only left a little early. This softened the blow for his parents, Elio thought. He talked to his mother briefly after that, and was relieved to learn that she, too, was pleased for him, though she scolded him mildly for his impulsivity. They wanted him to be happy. 

Oliver’s call also went as he thought it would. He only called his girlfriend. His parents didn’t need to know just yet. He thought breaking one heart was enough for the day. 

Later they lay in bed, comforting one another. Comforted by one another.

“Do your parents hate me?” Oliver asked. He was smiling, but he was only partially teasing. He thought it quite possible that the Perlmans would blame him for Elio’s swift departure, and it really was his fault, he thought. He could have refused when Elio asked to come with him. And he was aware that that’s probably what he should have done. 

Elio shook his head. “Of course not. I think they like you better than me.” They both knew he was exaggerating, but it got the point across. His parents were okay. Oliver kissed him then, softly, the briefest brush of the lips, making Elio smile.

Then Elio asked, “How did your family take the news?” He knew little about Oliver’s family, but he had the impression that they weren’t close. Oliver had made comments about how lucky Elio was, leading Elio to infer that Oliver didn’t consider himself as lucky. 

Oliver groaned. “I only called my girlfriend. My now _ex-girlfriend_.” 

Elio did not have as much life experience as Oliver and had never had a proper girlfriend. He’d hurt Marzia, though. So he knew it wasn’t easy and that Oliver was probably feeling guilty. “Was she upset?” he asked. 

Oliver didn’t want to talk about it. Not because it was a secret he hoped to keep, but because it was a sadness he hoped to spare Elio. He didn’t see any benefit to sharing details that might make Elio feel guilty, or sad, or any other negative emotion. “She was upset, but I don’t think she was entirely surprised.” 

Elio nodded. He knew that Oliver was only giving him the vaguest information, and he also thought he knew why. “Did you tell her about me?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Oliver turned to look at him, eyes searching. Why did Elio want to know this? He was tempted to lie. He thought a lie might be easier. But, what’s best and what’s easiest are rarely the same, so he said, “No, I didn’t.” Oliver saw Elio’s eyes flatten a bit, as if he were pulling away somehow. When Elio didn’t speak, Oliver continued. “She talks to my parents. I need to tell them, first. Elio, I’m going to need you to be patient.” 

Elio nodded. “Of course,” he said, and Oliver thought there was sorrow to his voice. He took his thumb and brushed it across Elio’s lower lip, then rested his palm gently on Elio’s cheek, admiring his lovely cheekbones as he did so. 

“My family isn’t like yours, Elio. They aren’t going to accept this,” he tried to explain.

Elio’s eyes narrowed a bit, his eyebrows lowered. “Accept what?” he asked.

“You know, Elio. All of this. They have a set path they expect me to follow. Only one path,” Oliver said with a sigh. 

“But who determines that path?” Elio asked. 

“Apparently I do,” Oliver said with a smile. “But, that’s the part they aren’t going to be happy about.” 

Elio sighed then, too. “Are you staying here tonight?” he finally asked. It’s what he’d been wondering since he learned they were going to a hotel rather than Oliver’s home. 

Oliver smiled then, a different kind of smile. A private smile. A secret smile only for him. Elio felt a similar smile sneaking onto his own face. “I’m definitely staying here tonight,” Oliver whispered while pulling Elio close to him beneath the bedding. 

“What about tomorrow night?” Elio asked, feeling suddenly shy. 

“Tomorrow night I’m staying with you. Here, at my place, at our place, I don’t know. I may not know the where, but I do know the who. Every night is yours from now on, Elio,” he promised. 

“Every night is ours,” Elio echoed. 

This, they agreed on. But what would happen tomorrow? 

  
  



	4. The Disappearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is worried about Elio’s whereabouts.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked. He’d noticed Elio staring at his computer for an extended length of time, not typing or clicking, but simply staring gloomily at the screen. 

Elio sighed. “I’m just looking for a job,” he said. 

“It’s a college town, so there are plenty of jobs,” Oliver offered helpfully. 

Elio made a strange noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “It’s not that simple though. I have no job experience. And thus no job references.” 

Oliver crossed the room to stand behind Elio, looking over his shoulder as if he could help by mere proximity. Elio leaned his head back, looking up at Oliver who then leaned down to kiss him. It was an awkward angle, which made them both laugh. “Are you particular?” Oliver asked. 

“Particular?” Elio had no idea what he meant.

“About jobs.” 

“Oh, I thought you meant about kisses,” Elio said, turning his gaze back to his computer with a sly grin on his face. Oliver gently guided his head back again for another kiss. Eventually Elio answered him though. “I’m not particular about jobs, no.”

Oliver nodded. “If you’re not particular, I can probably help you get something at the university. In the library maybe. At the very least something in the food court, just to get you started.” He was partially thinking aloud. 

“Anything,” Elio reiterated. But secretly, he’d rather find his own job. He wanted to be independent. 

They’d been gradually settling into a new normal together. As Oliver had promised, things hadn’t been entirely easy. Their second night together, Oliver had taken Elio to his apartment. His ex-girlfriend had vacated it immediately after their phone call. Fortunately, she had not given up her apartment, which Elio found comforting. He hoped that it meant that she knew on some level that it wouldn’t work out. He didn’t want to be a part of hurting another person if it could be avoided. 

There was one thing that bothered Elio, however, and that was Oliver’s unwillingness to introduce him to his family, or even to tell his family about him. He hated feeling like a dark secret. 

“You’re an adult,” he’d reminded Oliver the night before as they lay in bed together. “No one can dictate your life.” 

Oliver had stared at him then, wearing a contemplative expression. Elio had been raised to be independent. He’d been raised to follow his parents’ plans for him. “I know,” he muttered. “I will tell them soon.” 

The time came sooner than Oliver would have preferred, however, because that night his ex-girlfriend stopped by his apartment for a few things she’d forgotten. Though she was polite, she could not hide the shock she felt upon meeting Elio. When she left, Oliver looked at Elio for a very long time before finally saying, “I guess I need to go call my parents now.” 

It’s what Elio had wanted, but seeing how upset Oliver was about it, he felt deeply apprehensive. Oliver had taken the phone to the other room to talk, which also bothered Elio. He wanted no secrets between them. Though he couldn’t make out Oliver’s words, he could hear the tone, and when he realized that it wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation, he left the apartment. It seemed a perfect time for some fresh air. 

When Oliver got off the phone, he was surprised to find Elio gone. He didn’t have a car. He didn’t even have a bicycle. Where could he have gone? Oliver opened the door to his apartment and glanced around. “Elio?” 

There was no sign of him. Oliver walked back through the apartment and stepped out onto the balcony. He’d hoped to find Elio there, but he didn’t. He took advantage of his higher vantage point though, scanning the area. There was no sign of him. Oliver felt the first prickles of worry making their way up his spine. _Elio is an adult,_ he tried to remind himself, but it was of little help. He slid the door open, stepping back inside while also pulling his phone out of his pocket. When he saw that he had no missed calls, the prickles of worry spread to his cheeks, where he felt a sudden heat. 

Taking a deep breath, he finally dialed Elio. When he heard the buzzing sound coming from his kitchen table, he didn’t even have to look to know what it was. He simply clicked the _end call_ button and dropped himself onto the sofa wondering what to do next. 

He stayed there more or less motionless for nearly two hours. When he heard a tapping on the door, his panic loosened its grip on him. It was replaced by relief, which didn’t surprise him. But it was also replaced by some unexpected negative emotion, too, similar to anger. 

He rushed to the door and flung it open. Elio was standing there, as he knew he would be. “Damn it, Elio!” he breathed as he pulled him into a hug. A smile fell from Elio’s face, and only then did Oliver recognize that he’d been smiling. “Where have you been?” 

Elio held up a _help wanted_ sign. “I got a job,” he said. He’d been so excited about the job, and couldn’t wait to tell Oliver, but the greeting he’d received had dampened his enthusiasm. 

Oliver smiled though. “That’s great, Elio.” He was beginning to feel like he could breathe again. 

“You’re not mad are you?” Elio asked. He was still trying to determine what had happened. 

Oliver kissed him on the cheek and then hugged him. “No, I’m not mad.” They walked to the sofa together and sat next to each other. Oliver sat on the end, Elio sat next to him. Elio angled himself so that his back rested against Oliver rather than the back of the sofa, and Oliver wrapped his arms around him. Oliver kissed the side of his head again, relief continuing to wash over him like waves. “But, Elio, please tell me when you’re leaving, you know? You scared me.” 

Elio concentrated on keeping his face neutral, but he wasn’t happy. Oliver must have sensed his unhappiness despite his effort to conceal it, because he continued, “I’m not telling you to _ask_ me, but just tell me, you know? I was really worried.” 

Elio sighed. “I didn’t even tell my parents when I left the country. The _continent_.” 

Oliver grinned then and kissed him noisily, playfully, on the cheek. “Please, Elio. Don’t be mad. I just need to know you’re safe.” 

“I’m going to be safe,” Elio grumbled. “I know how to be safe, Oliver.” He made a noise that was too loud and too barky to be a real laugh. 

Oliver rested his fingers under Elio’s chin and guided his face around until his soft, pink lips were in view, which he then kissed apprehensively. When Elio returned the kiss, relief washed over him a second time. “Will you at least take your phone with you next time, then?” he whispered between kisses. 

Elio smiled innocently and whispered in return, “Maybe.” He then began kissing Oliver again, parting his lips. They were so busy enjoying the feeling of their lips on each other, then their hands on each other, that they never got around to discussing his new job, nor how Oliver’s conversation with his parents had gone. They had other things on their mind.

  
  



	5. The Decision

“You go first,” Oliver said, smiling. 

Elio grinned and shook his head. “No, you go first. Yours is more important.” 

Oliver kissed him again, feeling their bodies tangled up together until they hardly knew where one began and the other ended. “Yours will probably be quicker to tell though,” Oliver said sensibly. 

Elio nodded. He was certain that this was true. “Well, I heard you arguing with your parents. I couldn’t make out exactly what you were saying and it was making me anxious. So, I just decided to go for a walk.” 

Oliver nodded. He was following thus far. 

“When I got down to that little shop on the corner, you know, the one that sells games and puzzles?” Elio began. 

“You mean the toy store?” Oliver asked, surprised. 

Elio blushed. “They sell games, too. And puzzles.”

Oliver laughed, “And toys.” 

“Anyway…” Elio continued with a sigh, “They had a help wanted sign in the window, so I went in and talked to them. I can start tomorrow.” He couldn’t entirely conceal the pride in his voice. He’d never had a job before. 

“That’s great, Elio,” Oliver said. And he did mean it. Not just anyone can walk in with no work experience, no references, and be hired on the spot. There was something about Elio that just made everyone like him. 

“It’s a cool store. It’s not just a regular toy store,” Elio was still a little defensive, and Oliver felt bad for teasing him. 

“I’m really proud of you,” Oliver added, making Elio’s smile broaden so that his teeth were visible. 

After a pause, Elio said, “Your turn. How did it go with your parents.” 

“It went fine.” 

They lay side by side in the dark, silence falling over them like a blanket. Elio turned on his side, facing Oliver, and Oliver turned toward him as well. 

“Fine?” Elio asked. “Is that really all you’re going to say?” 

Oliver shrugged. “There’s not a lot to say about it.” 

Elio made a noise then, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “I guess mine was the longer story after all,” he said, rolling away from Oliver. He was trying not to be mad. Trying not to feel that he had the right to know more. 

The instant Elio turned away from him, Oliver regretted not being more forthcoming. He scooted into Elio, laying behind him, pulling Elio to his chest, threading their legs together as if for warmth, though the room itself was warm. “Don’t be mad at me,” Oliver whispered. 

Elio said nothing. 

“I’m not trying to keep a secret,” Oliver attempted to explain.

Elio scoffed. “Well if this is you  _ not trying, _ I am not looking forward to a time when you _are trying_ to keep a secret.” 

Oliver increased his pressure, holding Elio tightly. “I will tell you, Elio. If you want me to tell you, I’ll tell you. I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why would it hurt me? Is your dad going to come beat me up?” 

“No.”

“Then why would it hurt me?”

Oliver took a few calming breaths before answering. “Because it hurts me.” 

______________

Later, a part of him would wish that Oliver had never relayed the conversation to him. Elio liked to think he _knew_ Oliver. He liked to think that they shared a unique connection unlike most couples. He had tried, in Italy, to lay himself bare before Oliver, and Oliver had reciprocated. And, because of that reciprocity, they did have an intimacy between them that was rare, perhaps even unique. But, hearing about Oliver’s conversation with his parents made it clear to Elio that they did not _really_ know each other in some of the most fundamental ways. 

To Elio, it now felt like boarding the train with Oliver had been a selfish act, though it hadn’t felt like it at the time. Why should he have assumed that Oliver would want him to come? Why should he have assumed that Oliver would be able to fit him into his life. He’d been in America for less than a week, and he’d already broken up a relationship that had been going on since he, Elio, was only 14 years old. To make things worse, he’d apparently broken up Oliver’s relationship with his parents, too, because eventually Oliver revealed to Elio that his parents told him he had to choose between Elio and them. They’d given him a week to think about it, but he told them he didn’t need a week. He was going to be with the person he loved. Elio didn’t want to be the cause of pain for Oliver, though. He didn’t know what to do. 

“Elio, don’t feel guilty,” Oliver said for what felt like the tenth time. But he could still see the guilt etched on his face. 

“Don’t feel guilty?” Elio scoffed. He’d been raised to believe one doesn’t control feelings, but only the behaviors that result from those feelings. So while he could refrain from going to Oliver’s home and telling his parents what he thought of their views, he could not control the guilt and anger he felt. Though part of Elio wondered why should bother to refrain from talking to Oliver’s parents. Who better to do so than he? 

Oliver held him even tighter, playfully, and Elio laughed and wriggled to loosen Oliver’s grip on him. 

“It’s good to see you smiling,” Oliver said, kissing him behind the ear. Elio only closed his eyes, unwilling to disclose his reason for smiling. Because he knew Oliver might not approve, but Elio now knew what to do. He would simply talk to Oliver’s parents. He’d do it tomorrow. 

  
  
  



	6. Like Father, Like Son?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio goes in search of Oliver’s family, but what will he discover when he gets there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We don’t know a lot about Oliver, not even a last name, and I realize that it was intentional. Thus, this part of the story is very much from my own imagination about what Oliver’s family might have been like. In upcoming chapters, it will be more clear why I made the choices that I have.

Elio lay in bed, admiring Oliver in sleep. The faint sunlight, still low in the sky, cast a pale pink glow upon his skin, making him even more gorgeous, Elio thought. 

Elio had struggled with sleep for most of the night, planning what he should say to Oliver’s family. So many times, he considered asking Oliver for his permission. But he knew Oliver would never willingly allow him to confront his family. He was aware, too, that Oliver might be angry when he learned what he’d done. 

Elio imagined two possible outcomes. The first outcome was grim. Oliver’s family could reject Elio’s effort, and it could drive the wedge between Oliver and them even deeper. In this scenario, Elio knew Oliver would certainly be angry with him. He might even send him directly back to Italy. But, Elio reasoned, even in this tragic case, he would still be no worse off than he would have been, had he not gotten on the train that day. 

The other outcome was brighter. Perhaps Oliver’s family would meet him and realize he wasn’t villainous. Maybe they would accept Oliver’s love for him if they could see him in front of them and understand that he was, in fact, an actual person. And this possibility is the place that Elio decided to call home. He had always been well-liked. Hadn’t Oliver himself commented on Elio’s ability to walk in and secure a job based only on a help-wanted sign? Surely he could summon that same charisma and likeability. Surely he could win them over in the same manner that he’d won over the owner of the ‘games and puzzles’ store. He had to at least try. 

“Oliver,” Elio whispered, uncertain whether he hoped Oliver would wake or continue sleeping. “Oliver,” he whispered again with only the slightest bit more urgency. Oliver did not budge, and Elio took it as a sign. He slid out from beneath the covers and shimmied into yesterday’s jeans and T-shirt, which he’d discarded last night in his haste to join Oliver in bed. He was searching for his shoes when he glimpsed himself in the mirror. He stared at his image for a moment, dismayed, then rolled his eyes at himself. He was objectively attractive, this he knew from being told over the years. But when he saw himself, he saw something wholly different. He saw someone who was too young, too thin, too… too everything. Not enough muscle, not enough cheek stubble, not enough… Not enough anything. Add to his already low opinion of himself the ketchup stain on his Talking Heads T-shirt and the wrinkled jeans that spent too many hours wadded in his backpack, and the Elio he saw in the mirror was ill-prepared to meet anyone’s parents, much less Oliver’s parents. 

He turned his gaze back to Oliver, to ensure he was still soundly sleeping. Finding him so, Elio was torn between dueling desires. The desire to slide right back into bed beside Oliver, roll up next to him, perhaps even wake him if he couldn’t **_not_** do so, waged battle with the desire to make himself presentable, visit Oliver’s family, and make them understand that love is love. Today, love demanded to prevail, Elio decided. 

It took little effort to locate their address, nor did it take much effort to find their location. It did take some effort, though, to believe his eyes when he finally reached his destination. Elio stared at the little ramshackle house in disbelief. He looked back at the map on his phone, then at the house, then back at his phone. This just didn’t seem right. 

Just as Elio understood that he was objectively attractive despite his desire to deny it, Elio also understood that his family was of means. He had never considered himself wealthy. He was brought up to value knowledge more than money, and to believe that the pursuit of one’s passions or artistic endeavors was always of value. Because of this lifestyle, and because they were not in need of it, Elio had spent little time at all thinking about money. But, as he looked at Oliver’s parents’ home, he realized just how misguided his assumptions could be. As he sat in the car, studying the house that was little more than a shack, he became aware of how judgemental he was being. He was piling assumptions upon assumptions. He simply needed to behave as he would if the house had been more in line with his expectations. People were people, he reminded himself. And these people produced Oliver, so they were already pretty special as far as Elio was concerned. 

With this in mind, Elio got out of the car, glancing around before locking the car doors and heading up what once was a sidewalk, careful not to trip over the jagged, unlevel remnants of cement. 

The moment he reached the porch, his phone rang. He answered it in phone hypnosis, without glancing to see who was calling. “Hello?” he said, pausing just before the first step up to the door. He couldn’t very well introduce himself with a call in progress. 

“Well, at least you took your phone this time,” Oliver said. He didn’t sound angry. 

“Uh, yeah. Last night I didn’t mean to…” Elio’s voice trailed off because he could hear rustling on the other side of the door. He tried to prepare himself for what he knew would be an awkward situation, but there is only so much preparation a person can do while standing on the porch while hearing the locks being unbolted one by one.

When the door opened, Elio was facing the man he knew was Oliver’s father. He knew it not only because they looked so much alike, but also because he heard almost the same sentence through the phone and from the man simultaneously. 

“Why are you driving my son’s car?”

“You took my car though.” 

“Uhhhh,” was his only response to both father and son. 

  
  



	7. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver discovers that Elio is at his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just borrowed the surname from my favorite college professor.

Elio felt like a prey animal, a squirrel perhaps, the moment it realizes that it might be in danger. Before flight, and _long_ before fight, there’s freeze. Elio stood frozen on the porch. He knew that the man inside the house was waiting for an answer, and he knew also that Oliver was on the other end of the phone, waiting expectantly. Elio didn’t know if Oliver had heard his father’s voice. Elio didn’t know what to do at the moment, but he was certain of one thing. He did not want to lie outright. Not to Oliver. 

“Right, sorry about that... Hey, I’m kind of busy right now. Can I call you back?” Elio spoke into the phone. 

It felt like an almost endless moment passed before Oliver’s voice answered with, “Of course. Are you okay, Elio?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Elio noticed that the man’s interest in his conversation was intensifying. He must be aware that something was up. “Oliver, I have to go. I’ll call you back soon.” Elio cursed himself the moment he said Oliver’s name. And indeed, as soon as he spoke the word, Elio watched the man’s eyes narrow. 

“Elio?” Oliver said. Elio did not know how or why, but there was concern in his voice, as if he, too, knew something was wrong. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. I promise.” 

After a long pause, with trepidation heavy in his voice, Oliver said, “Okay. I love you.”

Elio looked at the man in front of him, who was by now nearly glaring at him. He didn’t like the man’s angry glare, so he straightened his spine, maintained eye contact with the man, and said unapologetically into the phone, “I love you, too, Oliver.” 

The phone clicked off and the door slammed in his face at the same moment, leaving Elio standing on the porch feeling like the squirrel must feel after the danger passed. He could breathe again. But he’d accomplished nothing. 

He banged on the door. He didn’t fully expect an answer, and he was not disappointed in that expectation. He knocked again and again until his knuckles burned. He looked for the doorbell or the brass door knocker, but found neither. He wondered, are those things luxuries? What other things did he consider commonplace that were, in fact, luxuries?

Not knowing what else to do, he called through the door, “Hello?” When there was no answer, he tried, “Mr. Schafer?” He knocked so long he thought his knuckles would bruise. After each flurry of knocks, he would shake out his hand, then open and close his fist a few times. This seemed to relieve the fire that had encased the bones of each of his fingers. Just when he was about to give up, he remembered he had a left hand as well, so he began the process anew. “I can stay here all night, Mr. Schafer,” Elio called through the door, trying to sound more determined than he felt. 

Finally, Elio heard the scrape of locks. Were they being locked, or unlocked? He tried to remember if he’d heard them before. Before he’d decided, the door opened. The chain was still fastened, which Elio found almost laughable. He had never considered himself a threat, and neither had anyone else. 

“Who are you and what do you want?” the man growled, mistrust glinting in his eyes.

Elio took in what he could see of the man. His eyes were smaller than Oliver’s, and heavy-lidded. But they were the same familiar shade of crystal blue. On Oliver, this shade brought to mind the intimate blue water of Mediterranean Sea, but the same shade on his father conjured images of steel or ice. He had a few days’ growth of beard, giving him a somewhat disheveled look that starkly contrasted with the neatly combed hair the color of warm honey. Elio noticed that he still had a nice, full head of hair, and wondered briefly if Oliver would share that particularly lucky piece of genetic code. 

His thoughts were interrupted, though, when Mr. Shafer barked, “Well. Are you going to answer me or stand there gawking at me?”

Elio shook his head slightly, trying to bring himself back to the current moment, however surreal it may have seemed. “Uh, I’m going to answer you. Uh, sir.” 

The man rolled his eyes, keeping them cast upward for a moment too long before completing the eye roll. “No need for the ‘sir’ nonsense, but if you’re going to answer me, answer me. Or else go on with my son’s car and have yourself a nice day.” For some reason, Elio didn’t feel that the man cared much whether or not he had a nice day. 

“My name is Elio Perlman. I think you know who I am though.” The confidence in his own voice surprised him. 

Mr. Schafer glared at him, but Elio willed himself not to look away. “I guess I do,” he admitted. 

Elio smiled, trying to arrange his face into a pleasant expression. He waited to be asked inside, but no invitation was forthcoming. “Is there someplace we can talk?” he finally asked. 

“Get off my porch before I call the cops,” was the man’s answer. 

Elio felt his features rearranging themselves into a much less pleasant form. “Call the cops? Are you serious?” 

“I’m serious. Get. The. Hell. Off. My. Porch.” 

Elio’s jaw dropped. He’d never been spoken to in such a manner. As he stood, trying to decide what to do next, the man pulled something from his pocket. Elio could determine that it was a phone. A flip phone with a bit of tape apparently holding the back on, the screen cracked. But it appeared to be in working order because the man pressed a few buttons and then placed the phone near his ear, never breaking eye contact with Elio. 

Elio, for his part, thought about what to do. Though he was an American citizen, he wasn’t as familiar with the laws as he should be, a fact that was painfully obvious to him at the moment. He didn’t think that standing on someone’s porch should be illegal, but it was someone’s property, and they had asked him to leave. Yet, he could not make himself turn to descend the stairs. He had never liked bullies, and he liked this bully least of all. He was just about to say this… say this or leave, he remained uncertain… when someone answered the old man’s call. 

It took less than a second before Elio discovered that it hadn’t been the police at all. He knew because Mr. Schafer nailed him with a cold, hard look as he grumbled into the phone, “Oliver, you better get your little friend to leave my property, or we’re going to have problems.”

Elio suddenly felt as if he’d swallowed a brick. Though the man still held the phone to his own ear, Elio could hear Oliver’s voice almost as clearly as if it had been on speaker, though unfortunately, it was not. 

“Elio is _where_? Elio is at _your house_?” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio has to face Oliver, who is not too happy about Elio confronting his family.

Elio entered the apartment quickly, not glancing around, certainly not looking in Oliver’s direction. “I know,” he muttered, moving hastily past Oliver and into the bedroom. Oliver looked up from where he sat working on a syllabus, but he only saw a beautiful blur pass by. 

“Elio?” he asked. He stood to go check on him, but before he could take a step, he heard Elio’s voice coming toward him angrily from down the hallway. 

“I said I _know,_ Oliver!”

Oliver dropped himself back onto the sofa, but he couldn’t grade papers. He was too distracted. Too irritated. He rose and moved toward the room. “I’m the one who should be mad here, Elio,” he was saying. But when he reached the closed bedroom door, he could hear Elio’s distraught voice on the other side. It sounded like he was on the phone. Oliver paused, listening. 

“Mom? I need to come home… Please,” Elio was softly saying. Though Oliver couldn’t see him, he could certainly hear the distress in his voice. Oliver was torn between two conflicting urges. He wanted to go into the room, interrupt the phone call, and talk to Elio. Yet, he also knew that would be impolite, and if Elio needed to talk to him family, then he could understand that. Somehow, while trying to decide between the two, he pressed his ear to the door to listen, hating himself for it. Of course he could not hear Annella, but he could hear Elio’s side of the conversation. 

“I shouldn’t have come, mom… it was a terrible mistake…” 

“I know, mom… I know... “ 

“He hates me now. I can’t stay here. Please just tell me what to do…” 

Oliver could hear Elio take a few ragged breaths. A long moment passed before Oliver heard Elio’s voice again. This time he heard, “Dad?” 

Oliver couldn’t listen any longer. Because he felt guilty or because he couldn’t stand to hear Elio in such distress, he wasn’t sure which. He went back to continue his grading, but of course he couldn’t do that either. He was so angry. Angry with Elio, for going to talk to his family without even discussing it with him first. Angry with himself, for bringing Elio across the ocean, away from his family, when he himself was so unprepared for it. 

And then there was the conversation he’d had with Elio as Elio was driving back from his family’s house. Oliver knew that he should never have had such a conversation when he was so livid. When he thought about some of the things he’d said, he felt the heat of shame settle over his face. 

“I was only trying to help,” Elio had tried to explain. 

“A lot of help you were. Thanks for this, Elio. So helpful,” he had seethed. 

“I told you I’m sorry. And I am. You know I am. I love you,” Elio had tried. 

“A lot of good that does. Fine, you’re sorry. You’ve ruined _everything,_ Elio. Everything with my family. Everything with us. _Everything._ ”

There had been a sudden, sharp silence then. Finally, Elio asked weakly, “Everything with _us?”_ His voice sounded weak, almost hollow. 

“Everything,” he had repeated. Resolutely. 

Elio had hung up then. Oliver assumed it was because he was mad, but now he thought it more likely that he was overwrought with emotion and needed a break. Oliver felt sick thinking about how upset Elio was. But he was upset, too. He felt betrayed by the one person he truly trusted. 

He went back to the bedroom, put his ear to the door again. This time, he heard nothing.

“Elio?” he called, but there was no reply. “Elio? Can I come in?” After waiting for a reply but receiving none, he slowly opened the door to find Elio laying in bed with a pillow over his head. “Elio?” he asked again, more tenderly this time. He crossed the room and lay down on the bed beside Elio, though he did not reach for him. “Are you okay?” 

“I know. I know,” Elio mumbled incoherently. 

“You know? What does that mean? What do you _know_?” Oliver needed some clarification. 

Elio groaned, and Oliver plucked the pillow from his head. This earned him an irritated glower from Elio, who then turned over and threw an arm over his head instead. Oliver suddenly wanted to lay next to Elio, to wrap his arms around him, to comfort him. He had to keep reminding himself that he, too, was angry. He placed his hands behind his head as he lay facing the ceiling. He hoped it would remind him not to touch Elio. He was angry with Elio, he reminded himself again, sighing extravagantly. “Are you not even going to talk to me?” 

Elio’s voice was muffled from where he had his face in the mattress and his arm over his head. “Talk about what? It’s over. What’s there to talk about?” 

“Maybe you could just explain it to me… what were you _thinking_ , Elio?” 

Elio made a noise then. Deep, gravelly, miserable. He sounded almost like a wounded animal, and again Oliver had to resist the urge to reach for him. Instead, he spoke, “Well, if we don’t talk, then you’re right. It _is_ over. There’s nothing for us if we can’t talk.” 

Elio sat up then and looked at Oliver. His eyes narrowed upon seeing Oliver lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head. Elio mistook this for a laid back posture, a lack of concern rather than Oliver’s effort to control his own emotions and actions. “You really don’t even care, do you?” Elio asked, his voice raw with emotion. 

Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to be patient but falling short. “Grow up, Elio.” 

“You grow up!” Elio retorted, realizing when he heard it how childish he sounded, adding credibility to Oliver’s statement. Elio sat, looking at Oliver’s relaxed demeanor, his lack of response, his closed eyes. This person that Elio considered an extension of himself yesterday was now more akin to a stranger. Someone completely closed off and inaccessible to him. “At least I didn’t lie to you,” he muttered under his breath.

If he was trying to bait Oliver, he was successful. Oliver sat up, opened his eyes, and looked at Elio for a long moment as if trying to determine whether he was serious. “What are you talking about?” Oliver asked incredulously. 

“You know what,” Elio said slowly, quietly, and with a tightness to his voice that was unfamiliar to both of them. 

“Elio, I may not have told you some things… things that were none of your business I might add… but I never lied to you.” 

Elio made a strange noise. A bird’s noise. Oliver thought it might be a laugh, but there was no smile, only a miserable shake of the head. “Yes, you’ve been completely upfront and honest,” Elio said sardonically. 

“Says the boy who snuck out before I was awake, took my car without asking, looked up my family, also without asking, and drove over to have a little chat with them, **_without asking_ **.” 

Elio felt his mouth fall open. He clicked it closed and then felt his eyebrows pulling together and down. “That’s not what I did!” he protested, and he hated the way he sounded. He sounded like a child. He wasn’t a child. 

“Oh really?” Oliver scoffed. “What part of that did you _not_ do? Huh?” 

Elio shrunk back, feeling something inside him flatten and close. “I was trying to help, Oliver. I was trying to help you work it out with your family. It’s the only way we could be together.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “We _were_ together! You moved across the ocean. I kicked out my girlfriend. You moved in here. We couldn’t have been any _more_ together, Elio. I gave up everything for you. What more did you want from me?” 

Elio felt dizzy. They were speaking in circles, speaking over each other, and around each other, but not listening to each other. How did this go so wrong so quickly. He put his hands over his face, trying to steady himself. “Are you embarrassed of your family? Is that what this is really about?” he finally asked. 

Oliver was taken aback by the question. Elio had a directness about him that Oliver loved and admired. Elio was brave in a way that Oliver never had been, and probably never would be. But he was suddenly inspired to try, so he told the truth. “I don’t know if it’s what this is about, Elio. But yes. Yes, I’m embarrassed of them.” 

Elio shook his head, disgusted. “Just because they don’t have money? I don’t care about that. If you’d have just been honest and given me a chance. What does it say about me, that you thought I’d judge them for that.” 

Oliver felt his jaw tighten, his teeth clenching together. “I’m not embarrassed because they don’t have money, Elio. I’m embarrassed of them because they are small-minded, judgemental people who can only see things one way. I’m embarrassed because they’d sooner disown me than to accept that I might not adhere to their image of me. They’d rather not love me at all than to accept who I love,” he explained. Then, giving a dismissive shake of the head, he added, “You thought this was about economic status?” When Elio didn’t answer, he walked toward their bedroom door. “God, you really don’t know me at all. Let me know when you need a ride to the airport.” 

And suddenly, Elio was more alone than he’d ever been. 

  
  



	9. If Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the final chapter. How will they say goodbye?

Oliver stood in the airport parking lot with Elio, feeling empty. He’d experienced a frenzy of emotions over the past week, building from worry and apprehension to excitement and giddiness, then somehow morphing into anger and sorrow. But the one emotion that was ever present, through the best moments and throughout the most difficult moments, was love. Oliver loved Elio, and he’d never been more certain of it than he was now. 

Oliver pulled into a parking spot and shut off the car. They both sat, not speaking, looking out the window, wondering what the other was thinking. “I can’t go in with you,” Oliver finally said. 

Elio nodded. This goodbye would be different, Elio had decided. He would remain strong. He did not regret the journey. He was glad that he had come. He’d tried. He’d given it the ultimate try. He was a different person than he’d been on that train platform, which felt like a lifetime ago. 

Oliver exited the car silently, and Elio drew a deep breath. He heard the shakiness in the breath and was relieved that Oliver wasn’t there to hear it. He got out of the car and walked around to the trunk where Elio’s backpack was. His parents had shipped the rest of his things to him, but nothing had even arrived yet. What a waste, Oliver thought. He held Elio’s backpack out for him, realizing then that Elio didn’t need his help. He felt awkward holding it out, but Elio accepted it graciously. 

They looked at each other then, really looked at each other, for the first time all day. Oliver stared into Elio’s eyes. They always mesmerized him with their flecks of different colors, green, brown, yellow, even some blue. It was as if Elio’s eyes were indecisive. As if they didn’t know what color to be, but they were even more beautiful for their indecision. They were okay with not having all the answers. Oliver wished that he and Elio could have had that same nonchalant attitude toward not knowing. If only they had, things might be different now. 

Elio startled as a jet flew low overhead. He suddenly appreciated the train, which had taken its time, which had given him time to accept its arrival. He remembered the way he had first felt the train, then heard it, then eventually it became real. Something he could see and touch. The airplane offered no such mercy. It was not there, and then suddenly it was there, large, loud, threatening. 

They nodded at one another, another wordless goodbye. Elio was determined not to mess this up. He’d cost them so much already. Oliver hugged him then, and he hugged back. They stood there, behind the car, feeling the warmth rising from the asphalt, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. It seemed to mingle with the warmth of their bodies, bringing them closer together somehow. Elio didn’t know when to let go, so he waited for Oliver. The embrace lingered on until Elio worried that Oliver wouldn't release him, while also worrying that he would. 

Suddenly, they were separated. Elio smiled, even chuckled mildly. Just as they acted as one person when they touched, never knowing for certain who initiated the entwining of their fingers, the threading of their legs together, Elio suddenly realized that the same was true when they parted. He was unsure whether he had ended the embrace, or if Oliver had. It just happened, as if they were one.

“What are you laughing about?” Oliver asked, with a curious smile on his face.

Elio didn’t know how to explain it, nor if he should explain it, so he simply shrugged and muttered, “Nothing.” He could see that Oliver was still curious, but didn’t ask again. 

They said nothing more. They didn’t say goodbye, or I love you. They offered no apologies, nor any forgiveness. They just looked at each other in a way that said so much, but so painfully little. 

And then, Elio did what he didn’t have the courage to do on the train platform. He turned and walked away. 

And then Oliver did what he didn’t have the courage to do on the train platform. He called out, “Elio!” and Elio turned back, glancing over his shoulder. Oliver called to him, “Is it better to speak or to die?” 

Elio stopped walking. He turned completely to face Oliver. He was frozen. At the sound of Oliver’s question, the ache creeped back into Elio’s chest, bringing with it an orchestra of emotions. “It’s better to speak,” he said. 

A car was turning onto the aisle, forcing Elio to decide. He had to clear the aisle. He could move toward Oliver, or move further away from him. He stood there, though, until the car had to stop. Elio’s limbs were heavy with the weight of the decision. 

Oliver seemed to sense it, so he took the few quick strides toward Elio, took his hands, and led him back. They stood, facing each other, hands in each other’s, unaware and unconcerned of what was happening around them. Oliver tucked his chin so that his forehead rested gently against Elio’s. “It’s better to speak,” Elio whispered. 

“Please stay,” Oliver said. 

Elio felt a lump form in his throat as tears filled his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “But what about…” he began, but was quickly interrupted. 

“We will work it out,” Oliver promised. 

A crooked smile crossed Elio’s face. “You don’t even know what I was going to say though.” 

Oliver kissed Elio, right on his soft, beautiful pink lips, something that he never thought he could do in public. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “Whatever it is, we will work it out.” 

Elio’s expression was unreadable, and Oliver began to panic. He couldn’t imagine life without Elio. He would give up anything, change anything, do anything, if only Elio would stay. As he was looking for the words to express this, Elio smiled and brushed his lips across Oliver’s briefly.

"If only," Oliver began, but he didn't need to finish. 

“I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos, comments, etc. I'm new to sharing my writing, so each of those things has meant a lot to me. I have another story almost finished, so be sure to follow me if you want to read more.

**Author's Note:**

> I have written a new story about what happens next for them. It’s called Pure Romance (a terrible title but it’s translated and sounds better in the original language lol!) so check it out if you want to know what happens next.


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